Sinners and Saints
by xoxo yourstruly
Summary: Pre-Epilogue. A look at what happened to Katniss and Peeta between the last chapter of Mockingjay and the Epilogue, complete with all the adventures and romance that these two deserve.


_A/N and Disclaimer: Hi everyone! Like a lot of people, I wanted to explore what happened to Katniss and Peeta once they got back to District Twelve so I figured the best way to do that was to write about it. All of the characters and the world they live in belong to the great Suzanne Collins._

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><p>Pain.<p>

For a long time, that's all I can really feel. Not hunger or sadness or even anger. Just pain. The debilitating kind that leaves me curled into myself, screaming, trying to keep myself from ripping every which way. Eventually, the pain subsides and is replaced by nothing. I think the nothing is even worse.

While the pain reminded me that I was alive, the nothingness makes me feel like I'm disappearing. It's a welcome change.

I think I wake up. I think Greasy Sae brings me breakfast and dinner. I think I even see Haymitch once, through the window. But I don't remember. The nothingness doesn't let me think about serious issues for too long. Names that should evoke waves of grief just float across my consciousness, as if they were stories someone had told me instead of people I actually knew.

Eventually, the curtains in my bedroom turn heavy with dust and my house begins to look like a relic. I don't care. These days, I feel like a relic. I don't belong here anymore.

Soon, the leaves turn brown and then they fall off the trees. Snow covers the ground and Greasy Sae lights a fire in my living room. I don't like it. The warmth on my skin feels too much like coming alive. Given the choice, I'd rather stay cold as the weather outside. So every time she lights the fire, I drag myself up the stairs, retreating to the darkness of my bedroom.

Staying cold becomes harder when Sae begins pushing her stew on me. At first, I won't touch it so she lets it sit on the table. My stomach grumbles at the smell, but I stay in my bedroom, wishing there was someway to stop smell from traveling. Smell and sound. The phone rings at least once a day but no one ever answers it. If it's something that bothers her, she doesn't say anything. When she leaves, I slowly make my way to the table and I eat the cold stew with deliberate spoonfuls. I know it's not as good as it would be warm, but at least cold stew lets me stay numb.

One day, instead of making the stew and leaving, Sae yells up the stairs. "I don't give a damn how upset you are, you are going to come downstairs and eat this soup right now. I don't slave away all afternoon so you can throw it away or do whatever it is you do with it when I'm gone!"

I think what she's saying should probably be considered rude, but her words are hardly registering with me. I quickly calculate the path of least resistance. If I stay up here, she'll no doubt come and drag me to the kitchen. I'm conscious of how much strength I've lost. Even though she's in her seventies, she's stronger than me in my current state.

With a heavy sigh, I pad silently into the hallway and down the stairs. The tantalizing smell of the stew is stronger down here and I let my feet guide me into the kitchen, where I sit at the table to humor Sae. She puts the bowl down and then sits in the chair across from me, arms crossed, daring me to ignore her silent request.

I'm as stubborn as they come. I could play this game for hours and come out the victor. But I'm too tired to fight. Instead, I drag my bowl towards me until it's basically hanging from the edge of the table and I take a spoonful into my mouth. The flavors are rich and flavorful and make me warm in that way that I hate. I instinctively want to spit it out and push the soup away from me, but I know that Sae won't budge. She's still staring at me with narrowed eyes, waiting for me to rebel. So I eat another bite and then another. Soon, the entire bowl is empty.

"Good," she huffs at me, snatching the bowl up and making a racket as she cleans up the dishes. "And you'll do the same thing tomorrow too." She turns around to face me, soap-spattered hands resting on her hips. "You survived, dearie. Act like it." Her words sting somewhere in a far recess of my brain, but I just nod. When she doesn't speak again, I push my chair away from the table. I have a bed to get back to.

Soon, or maybe not so soon, tiny buds appear on the trees. I think they might become full-fledged leaves soon but I can't imagine that an entire season has passed. Just as my brain begins to digest the thought, it revolts against the idea.

What I want to believe is that I did _not _spend months on end alternating between my kitchen table and my bed. That I did _not _sustain myself solely on food I was forced to eat. That I have _not _acted like my mother once did. But I can't, because that is exactly what has happened. So this particular morning, then, becomes engulfed in self-pity.

After forcing down breakfast (also provided by Sae), I trudge back up to my bedroom. The worst part is that I am now fully aware of how terrible my behavior has become, and I am unable to change it. It feels sort of like being trapped in a different kind of arena- one that I made myself. Sae suggess that I go hunting but I don't have the energy to explain why that's a bad idea. Besides, the thought of my bed is all-consuming by now.

My room, dark and musty as it is, is the only place where I feel remotely safe. I collapse into the mattress and sleep.

I awake to the sound of shovels and an uncharacteristic amount of sunlight coming in. "Damn curtains," I mutter, stomping over to drag it shut. That's when I catch a glimpse of the familiar blonde head I haven't seen in so long. A maelstrom of emotion hits my chest at once and I don't know whether to cry or scream or break the window. It's hard feeling so much after feeling nothing for so long, but I can't tear my eyes away from him.

_Three Weeks Later_

Knowing that Peeta is back in Twelve has thrown my entire way of being off track. Now, Sae throws me these concerned glances when she thinks I don't see, no doubt wondering how I'm going to react to his being back. Even Haymitch has actually dropped by. He claimed it was a social visit but I knew he came to evaluate my sanity. At first, I thought he might've been sent by Dr. Aurelius but then I remember that Haymitch distrusts government even more than I do. No, he's here because he's actually worried about me and that just makes me angrier.

It starts to feel like they're plotting against me, and I have the feeling that Dr. Aurelius is ready to jump on the next train to Twelve at the first sign of trouble. But I decide early on that I won't give him the satisfaction. If everyone expects me to fall to pieces, then I still stay together.

One day, Sae knocks more gently on the door than she ever has and it takes me less than two seconds to figure out why. At my lack of response, she pushes open the door, but this time, holds it open long enough for Peeta to come through. He's holding a loaf of bread and looking at me with something akin to fear which is ridiculous, since he's the one known for trying to kill me. My blood begins to boil but I refuse to give in to my anger. Instead, I nod stoically and then excuse myself to my bedroom.

_Three Weeks Later_

Sae takes to bringing Peeta every morning. Then after a few days, she starts bringing him to dinner as well. If she knows how tense this makes me, she doesn't let on. Instead, she lets me hide in my room while she cooks and Peeta sits at my table, making conversation.

So far, our contact has been limited to my nod in acknowledgment and his nod in return. I think once, he might've tried to get a "hello" out, but I was up the stairs before he could.

Peeta's a much more compliant dinner guest than I am. He always eats what Sae makes and I can hear him compliment her cooking after every meal. Once he excuses himself, I head downstairs to eat. Sae glares daggers at me, but I really don't see what the problem is. This is the closest I can come to being civil, at least right now.

Tonight, I'm listening to the scraping of a fork and murmured discussions not quite loud enough for me to hear.

"It doesn't matter," I remind myself, staring at the shadows the evening sun makes on the ceiling. The only problem is that part of me wants to be there, at the table. I'd have nothing to contribute to the conversation, but the idea of being among people is starting to appeal to me. After so many months of solitude, it's alarming. I try to talk myself out of joining them, but I can't find any reason not to. After all, they were eating in _my _house. If anyone had a right to be there, it was me.

I force myself from the bed, down the hall, then down the stairs. As my foot hits the last step, I'm struck with uncharacteristic insecurity. What will they think about my presence after my refusing their invitations for so long? Then I realize that I've gone through far too much to give a damn what other people think about me, and let myself into my own kitchen.

They're at the table, seated across from each other. I'm surprised to see that Sae is eating and laughing, no doubt at something Peeta said. My walk is still so silent that it takes both of them a moment to realize they're being watched. Sae tries to hide the surprise on her face and turns back to her dinner, but Peeta stares at me until I feel a heat creep up in my cheeks. I guess he realizes he's being strange since he quickly apologizes and turns back to his food. I just nod and sit in the closest seat to the door, just in case.

"We were talking about the rebuilding in Twelve," Sae explains by way of greeting.

I don't really remember the last time I had a full conversation, but I know I _would've _remembered any mention of rebuilding Twelve. "Who's rebuilding Twelve?" I ask, feeling awful for not knowing anything about it. There were people out there rebuilding my home district and I was letting myself rot away in darkness. Some Mockingjay I ended up being.

"Everyone. Well, no, not everyone, but the people who've come back to Twelve. It's a lot of the same people. You know what they say, you can't take the Seam out of a person. But there's also some people from other districts. Think they're still clearing up for the most part," she says before stopping and looking at me with wide eyes.

I feel thoroughly confused until I realize that she's waiting for me to fall apart. She thinks she's said something that upset me. Of course I can't think about what sort of thing people must be cleaning up, but for now I'm choosing to focus on the positive: life is starting over.

I turn over to Peeta, who's found a way to not only stay silent, but to maintain eye contact with his food this entire time. I fight the compulsion to ask him how he's doing. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, I know what the answer is going to be and I don't think I can handle hearing it, at least not tonight.

I turn my attention back to Sae. "Do you think there's anything I can do to help?"

Her answer is almost instantaneous. "No one'd be complaining if you started hunting again."

My face cracks into a small smile for the first time since I've been back. "I think I can manage that."

"Peeta's been baking," she continues, a strain of pride in her voice.

"Not on a large scale or anything," Peeta says to his peas. "Just enough to help feed people. The 'New Capitol' or whatever it's called still hasn't found a great way to ship food out here yet," he mumbles on. I have to lean forward to hear him.

"That's really good of you." The words escape my mouth without my permission. I know they were a mistake as soon as his head snaps up, his expression full of confusion.

"Really?"

"Er, well, yeah. Feeding people is… good," I finish lamely. And even I feel like an idiot, Peeta returns my smile and suddenly, I don't mind feeling so foolish.


End file.
